


These Boots Are Made For Strutting

by redhoodedwolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, DEREK HALE IN STILETTOS, Derek learns to love himself, Getting Together, Hale Family Feels, M/M, THOUGH SHOES, but not crossdressing he just loves wearing high heeled shoes, derek comes home to beacon hills, derek is healing, fluuuuufff, lil bit of angst, mostly this is a self indulgent fic because i really love derek hale okay, set before s5, some characters missing/unmentioned cause i said so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5003698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoodedwolf/pseuds/redhoodedwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His claw tears at the tape that held the box closed, and the cardboard flaps spring open. Sitting right on top are the boots Laura had bought him 8 years ago. He gingerly lifts them from the box and examines them. Derek thinks about Stiles, thinks about the way they’d shared one last glance during the fight in Mexico, and then a second last glance when it was done, and knows it’s time to do something. He looks down at his shoes again and runs a thumb over the zipper. Time to be confident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Boots Are Made For Strutting

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE NO SHAME so I made this post earlier today: http://redhoodedwolf.tumblr.com/post/131173291995/redhoodedwolf-imagine-derek-hale-in-thigh-high  
> And then i had to write it I just couldn't not at this point the image was too deep for me  
> maybe ill expand upon this verse and get into derek crossdressing hmmm maybe someday

            Derek fucking loves heels.

            Rescind that. Derek fucking loves  _stiletto_ heels.

            As a young werewolf at the age of 13, he was terrified about his love for his older sister’s hidden shoe collection that she owned for the dates she pretended she didn’t go on. It was a bit more than any other teenager had to deal with. Not to mention the whole werewolf thing, but that was genetic so basically Derek just went by instinct for all that.

            Of course everyone in his family (well, most; everyone in his direct family) was a werewolf, so Laura immediately knew her brother had been sneaking around her shoe collection. The confrontation didn’t go quite as planned when Derek’s eyes had started watering and he’d cried, rushing into his baffled older sister’s arms, “What’s wrong with me?!”

            Once Laura had thoroughly convinced Derek that there was nothing wrong with him for liking high heels, she asked him if he wanted to try some of hers on. Thus spurred the two-year secret of Laura providing women’s shoes for her baby brother.

            Derek never wore them out of the house, not at first. He never wore them unless he was home alone or alone with Laura. The one time he’d been itching to try on a pair of new red pumps when his mother had been home, he’d had to toss off his shirt, fling himself into his bed and throw the covers over his body, hiding the shoes, and shriek when his mother threw open his door wondering what all the noise was about, and pray that his excited flushed cheeks made her jump to a different conclusion than his weird-ass fascination with heeled shoes.

            Laura had laughed her ass off when Derek told her what had happened on the way to school the next day, and he’d pouted until she’d promised to find him a new pair as an apology. 

            One could only hide a secret from Talia Hale for so long, however. When 15-year-old Derek had innocently asked his mom about buying a nice shoe organizer for his closet over dinner one day, the mother had to investigate. Derek owned three pairs of shoes, maybe. He hated shoe shopping, always had, so she was curious indeed as to what he really needed the organizer for. The large box of neatly stacked stilettos in her son’s closet was a surprise.

            So the secret was out. But because Derek’s family weren’t bigots (they were werewolves for fuck’s sake, they were the weirdest thing a human could ever “be”), it only gave the young man more opportunities to express himself while at home. It was a normal sight to see Derek join them at dinner, heels clacking against the wood floor. When he took his seat, he would cross his legs, one over the other. After about a month of this starting, no one expected anything less. 

            Still, Derek never wore the shoes outside in public. He got plenty of practice walking in them at home, and even became an expert in running in them in the woods. He was fast enough that the thin heels never got a chance to sink into the wet ground. Cora always used to complain that even in ‘high shoes’ he could still beat her in a race. Derek was viciously proud of that.

            Derek never told any of his friends about his love for stereotypical women’s shoes. He never told Paige. He never told Kate. Derek had a single selfish thought as he watched his house burn, that even she couldn’t burn that love out of him, it was the one secret he’d kept to himself.

            On his 18th birthday, Christmas, thirty miles out of New York City, Laura presented him with a pair of men’s thigh high black leather stiletto boots. Derek felt himself tear up like he had when he was 13, terrified his sister would hate him for his shoe obsession, and she held him as he cried for the first time since the fire over a year previous. 

            The next day, after arriving at their new apartment in the city, Derek put on his new shoes and told Laura he was going for a walk. Laura didn’t let him out of a hug for ten minutes.

            New York City swallowed Derek up. He was a faceless man in the streets, and that brought Derek confidence. He could walk around in his boots without anyone sparing him more of a second of a glance. And if anyone dared to do a double take, he had moved from the spot too quickly for them to get the chance. It was perfect. 

            Not as perfect as his mother complimenting the way his new shoes made his eyes pop, or the relaxing sound of their heels clacking against the wooden floorboards. But it was still good. In New York, he started building back up his collection, buying shoes that fit better for a man’s foot, that he could more comfortably wear (as comfortable as anyone could be in such shoes). 

            Now, back in Beacon Hills, Derek stares down at the last box that needs to be unpacked of everything left from his and Laura’s life in New York. ‘SHOES’ is scribbled on the side in his blocky rushed handwriting. He’d been in a hurry to pack up all of their things, not bothering to sort out what was his and what was Laura’s. He’d just wanted to finally get some closure on that part of his life, and then go back  _home_. 

            After everything that had happened over the last three years: with Peter and Kate and Scott and Stiles and Allison and Erica and Boyd and Isaac and Jackson and Lydia and the alpha pack and Cora and the darach and Kira and the nogitsune and Kate  _again..._  he is finally content. No, life isn’t perfect. Things are gonna be fucked up for a while still. Scott’s pack is starting their last summer before senior year. It is quiet for now, but Derek’s choosing this time to enjoy the silence for once, rather than let it engulf him.

            His claw tears at the tape that held the box closed, and the cardboard flaps spring open. Sitting right on top are the boots Laura had bought him 8 years ago. He gingerly lifts them from the box and examines them. After becoming the alpha, he’d put on muscle weight, but then he’d lost it again after giving up his powers for Cora, and lost some more after becoming human. He is back to his regular healthy weight now, and as he stares at the shoes he wonders if he still fits in them.

            Derek thinks about Stiles, thinks about the way they’d shared one last glance during the fight in Mexico, and then a second last glance when it was done, and knows it’s time to do something. He looks down at his shoes again and runs a thumb over the zipper. Time to be confident.

*

            That evening, the pack gathers in Derek’s loft to celebrate the beginning of summer and Derek’s return. Scott and Kira provide the snacks, while Lydia gets the drinks. Parrish follows her in like a lost puppy, still not sure of his place, but Scott’s reassuring smile melts the tension out of his shoulders, and he helps Lydia store the drinks in the fridge. Stiles enters a few minutes later, laden down with half a dozen pizzas and grumbles that none of the supernatural creatures with actual muscle mass are helping.

            “I got them,” a voice speaks, whisking the tall stack of pizzas from Stiles’ hands easily. The first thing Stiles sees is tall leather stiletto boots, and he follows them up strong thighs hidden by tight dark jeans that melts into a light blue soft looking shirt mostly hidden by the pizzas, and finally to Derek’s scruffy face smirking at him, amusement gleaming in his eyes. 

            Stiles’ jaw drops as he stares at the man in front of him, and Derek, with so many years becoming comfortable with this aspect of himself behind him, simply arches an eyebrow in question.

            Stiles blurts out, “I missed you.” His eyes immediately go wide and a hand slaps over his mouth. Derek chuckles and lets his gaze rake over the almost adult man in front of him.

            “I missed you too,” he replies easily, before turning on his heels and heading for the living room. He bends at the waist to plop the boxes on the coffee table, the boots restrictive enough that he prefers not to bend at the knees (plus it shows off his ass), and accepts the kiss on his cheek from Lydia with a fond smile. 

            The sound of his heels tapping against concrete is different, but not wrong, as he makes his way back into the kitchen where Stiles is still standing in shock. 

            “Is this going to be a problem?” Derek asks him, voice low, bending down to whisper in Stiles’ ear because  _he_ has the height advantage now.

            “Nope, nope, uh, not at all,” Stiles hastens to whisper back, and when Derek stands back up to his full height he meets Stiles’ eyes. The younger man’s heart is beating faster than normal, but it doesn’t skip with a lie, and the last shred of his hesitancy disappears. 

            Derek meets Scott’s eyes and the alpha gives him a smirk and a nod, answering an unasked question.

            When he looks back down at Stiles, Derek is on the receiving end of a grin. “You’re taller than me, now,” Stiles remarks.

            Derek teasingly flashes his bright blue eyes at him, feels a trill of excitement when he sees Stiles shiver, and grins back. “Guess that means I’m on top.”

            Kira chokes on her drink, Scott groans, Lydia smirks, and Parrish stubs his toe against the coffee table. 

            Stiles’ eyes gleam mischievously and he replies softly, though the majority of the people can hear, “Only when you’re in those,” pointing to his boots.

            “Deal,” he concedes, and Stiles is emanating so much happiness Derek is drowning in it.

            “Uh, guys?” Parrish says, gaining their eyes. “I know you’ve got a lot of history and all, but he’s still 17, and I’m still a deputy, so...”

            “Right,” Stiles replies, slipping his hand into Derek’s. “You gotta stay true to the law. No sex talk till I’m legal.”

            “In front of you,” Derek adds, because he’s feeling loose-limbed and happy, Stiles’ pulse erratic against his fingertips. “Understood.”

            Parrish waves his hand. “That’s all I ask.”

            Sure, Stiles’ father is still the sheriff, and Derek has rules of his own, and doesn’t plan on having sex with Stiles until he’s 18. Derek just got back, but he also just got Stiles back. He’d died,  _evolved_ , and now he is back. He knows the next couple of months before Stiles ages up won’t be torture, as many other say it will be. Because as long as Stiles is at his side, it can never be anything but perfect, like the sound of his heels on his home’s wooden floor.

 

**Author's Note:**

> there's more of this craziness on my tumblr at redhoodedwolf


End file.
